Hollow Hearts
by TweetyPie85
Summary: A short story in 3 parts spanning 3 periods in time. Not really M&S well sort of lol but quite a dark storyline. Exploring a what if scenario.
1. Chapter 1

_**Part 1:**_

_The infant wailed miserably, its small, chubby limbs struggling against the white, cotton sheet in which it had been hastily wrapped. Shifting the baby slightly in his right arm and drawing it closer to him, he whispered tenderly to it until under the combined effect of the warmth of his chest and the low, comforting words, it began to quieten. Yet even as his attention was directed away from the small bundle, the cool, thin hand that had hitherto been clasped within his own fell limp, the pale lips curling in a small, satisfied smile before the eyelids fluttered closed, sundering him forever from the lustrous gaze that had imprinted itself interminably upon his heart. _

* * *

Sully started awake, eyes darting frantically across the empty yard. Solitude continued to reign free beneath the humid blanket that had fallen over the territory; not even the occasional rustle of the leaves penetrated the stifling thickness. The sun was already high in the sky, a furiously bright disc bearing down upon the parched, baked earth. He hazarded it was close to two o'clock; she would be waiting for him. Rising slowly, he scrubbed away the traces of moisture from his cheeks and hurried down the smooth, wooden steps, heading for the barn.

* * *

Spotting her dark dress and white pinafore amidst the small crowd, he lengthened his stride and reaching the small path, he called out, "Michaela!"

The little girl turned and recognising the familiar figure, she waved merrily before turning away to hunt for her school books. Finally unearthing them from beneath the wooden table, she crawled out and stumbling to her feet, instantly took off running towards him, her long coppery locks streaming out behind her like a ribbon caught in a high breeze. Bending down, he caught her in a fierce embrace which she reciprocated with equal fervour.

"Hey sweet girl," he said, releasing her and rising to his feet, "did ya have a good day at school?"

"Yep," replied the girl exuberantly, taking the hand that was proffered to her, "the Reverend was teachin' us all about Jesus healin' the sick people and Johnny got to play Jesus and I had to be the sick woman. But he kept doin' it all wrong so then I got to be Jesus and he had to be the sick man. He got all mad though and stole my apple at lunch so I chased him all around the big tree and made him give it back."

"That how ya got so dirty?" suggested Sully with a chuckle as she paused for breath. At her sheepish expression, he smiled.

"What am I gunna do with ya?" he joked, rubbing his hand against her side and earning a loud giggle in return.

"Stop it Papa!" laughed Michaela, wriggling away from his touch and running forwards to take the bridle of the horse. Sully took the books from her hands and placing them on the ground, lifted his daughter into his arms.

"Up ya go," he said and well used to the routine, Michaela immediately adjusted herself within the saddle and reached out to grab her books before taking hold of the reins. Sully mounted easily behind her and leaning over her shoulder asked lightly, "Ya drivin' or am I?"

"It's your turn today Pa," she replied cheekily, twisting slightly to smile broadly at him and handing over the reins. As he clicked his tongue and nudged the horse into a gentle canter, she instantly leaned back against him, resting her head in the crook of his arm, her young head barely grazing the darkened underside of his chin.

* * *

"Pa," began Michaela tentatively as he lifted her back down onto the ground, "can I ask ya somethin'?"

"Sure" replied Sully, reaching out for the bridle to lead the horse back into the barn, "what's on your mind?"

"Well when we were actin' at school today, it kinda got me thinkin' and I was wonderin'…"

She broke off suddenly as though losing her nerve, her fingers twisting themselves within the dusty fabric of her dress. Noting her hesitation, Sully turned back towards her and asked curiously, "Wonderin' what?"

"Pa," she continued after a moment, stepping towards him, "d'ya think I could be a doctor when I grow up?"

Sully's grip tightened like a vice around the leather strap in his hand, knuckles growing pale as he struggled to control the tirade of emotions that rose swift within his chest. Mindful of her innocent, watchful gaze and with great effort, he mastered the bitter ire that tangled about his heart, finally choking out a single response, "No."

"But Pa," protested Michaela, "why not? I…"

"I said _no!_" burst out Sully suddenly, suppressed grief and the raw fragments of resentment expelling the words from his mouth with a fearsome venom. Balking at her father's uncharacteristic fury, she retreated, bewilderment contorting her regular features.

"Go inside and wash up," subjoined Sully sedately after a moment's silence during which he once again forced his agony back into the gaping chasm from whence it had so hastily arisen and sought now to amend for the hurt he had seen momentarily flicker in his daughter's eyes, "your brothers are comin' over for dinner."

Nodding, she turned and headed wordlessly up the steps to the door of the homestead. Her hand had barely touched the metal of the handle when his voice arrested her movement.

"Michaela," he called softly, "I love you sweet girl."

Her warm heart could not hold his outburst against him for long and smiling, she ran back to his welcoming arms, burying herself in his comforting scent.

"I love you too Pa."


	2. Chapter 2

**_Part 2:_**

The gentle caress warmed his chilled skin and languidly he opened his eyes; the fire had burnt low, the glow from the embers falling full upon the delicate features. Still cloying at the mantle of sleep that clouded his vision, the outline of the prostrate figure remained blurred and thus guided by instinct, he reached out to caress the soft skin of cheek and jaw, the stray curls silken beneath his touch.

"Pa," she called softly, chaffing his cool fingers with her own, "Pa, it's awful late."

The voice, lighter than he remembered, jarred against his memory and blinking against the growing darkness, the images of memory hastily fled; the hazel eye melted into an emerald ocean, the flecks of azure like foam upon the waves. The familiar scent was replaced by one of life and youth; heavy with disappointment, his hand dropped listlessly back into his lap.

"Pa," she repeated, "it's late. You should head on upstairs."

"No," he insisted, "I reckon I'll stay here tonight."

"No," she said sternly, rising to her feet and putting her arm about him, urging him to stand, "you won't sleep, I know and your back will ache all day tomorrow."

Sully chuckled and allowed his daughter to pull him to his feet. When finally he stood before her, he extended his hand and tilted her chin up towards him.

"Always lookin' out for your Pa," he noted quietly, "just like…"

The image that had been haunting his dreams revived before him and he broke off, unable to continue.

"Shouldn't you be in bed too?" he queried, slipping his arm around her young shoulder, "gotta be up early tomorrow to meet your Grandma's train."

"I know Pa," conceded Michaela, "I just wanted to finish readin' my book first. I guess I didn't realise how late it was."

Arm in arm, father and daughter ascended the stairs and by mutual consent, paused in the middle of the landing between the two bedrooms.

"Night Pa," said Michaela, reaching up to kiss her father's pale cheek, "see ya in the mornin'."

"Night sweet girl," replied Sully, addressing her as he had done since the day she was born, though she had long since ceased to be a girl. He watched her retreating form, waiting for the click of the door behind her before he sought the gloomy cavern that was their room; his room.

* * *

"Mrs Quinn!"

A voice called from behind them; Sully and Michaela simultaneously raised their heads, scanning the passengers disembarking from the train. There she stood: but it was a very different Elizabeth Quinn that surveyed the humble surroundings before making her way to the narrow steps. He had once thought that nothing could shake the rigid form of his formidable mother in law. Yet she had never quite been able to brook the grief that had descended on her, on them all, and her frame bore a silent testament to it. Slightly hunched over, her steps shaky as she descended the steps, there was little left that resembled the once vigorous, imperious character that commandeered the social circles of Boston and the awe of the simple people of Colorado Springs. Stepping forwards, he grasped her arm and assisted her gently to the ground.

"Thank you, Sully" she murmured, glancing up at him with a grateful smile.

"Michaela," she exclaimed, as she noticed her grand daughter waiting anxiously a few feet away.

"Hey Grandma" replied Michaela delightedly, moving forward to vehemently hug the wisened old lady who had stood in the stead of both friend and guardian.

"Look at you," said Elizabeth, holding her grand daughter a little away from her, "How you've grown. You're quite the lady now."

Sully watched the bittersweet delight, so like the one that ever lingered in his heart, quiver in her eyes as she surveyed the form, the speaking likeness almost painful to encounter. When she spoke, her voice betrayed little of the inward agony yet the tears could not be suppressed and they rolled freely down the wrinkled cheeks.

"If ya aint too tired Grandma," began Michaela, taking her grandmother's hand excitedly in her own, "we're gunna have dinner here in town 'fore we go home. Lots of people wanna meet ya."

"That sounds just perfect," assented Elizabeth before adding with a touch of disdain, "traveller's cuisine leaves much to be desired."

"I got some things to do," interrupted Sully suddenly, "you go on to Grace's and I'll see ya there."

Elizabeth glanced in puzzlement between the closed expression on her son in law's face to the resigned if somewhat saddened one of her granddaughter. However, choosing not to pursue the subject, she merely shrugged slightly and suggested, "That's fine Mr Sully. Michaela and I will take a walk till you get back. We have a lot to catch up on."

* * *

"How are things Michaela," probed Elizabeth as they strolled back towards town, "really?"

"Just… fine," replied Michaela slowly, though her voice lacked the conviction and animation that their discussion had previously held.

"What's the matter?" queried her grandmother, halting their progress over the bridge and turning to look at her grand daughter.

"It's Pa," admitted Michaela reluctantly, "I've finished school now but he won't even think about lettin' me go away to college…I thought about it a lot and I know I wanna be a doctor. I read so many books but they just don't seem to be enough. I just gotta know more…sometimes it's all I can think about."

Elizabeth surveyed her young face, furrowed by sadness yet laced by a longing that was wholly familiar to her.

"Did your Pa say why you couldn't go?"

"No," said Michaela, twisting her hands together in frustration, "he don't like to talk about it."

"Why don't I have a talk with him," suggested Elizabeth, reaching out and steadying herself upon the wooden rail, "perhaps I can make him change his mind. Where is he now?"

"He's gone to see Ma" came the poignant response and with that she turned away to continue along the dust ridden path.

* * *

Three graves; a fearsome line attesting to the loss that on occasion had threatened to entirely overwhelm him, smother him in a shroud of impenetrable darkness. Yet it was by the third that he now sat; the name on the headstone had not faded like that of its siblings, the letters still bore out clear against the slab of grey. Reaching out he ran his fingers repeatedly over the name, as though the very letters could provide him with solace.

"Sorry I'm late," he murmured to the stillness, "your Ma just arrived. Figure she'll be by to see ya some time soon."

A protracted silence followed this utterance; Sully moved his hands to the earth that rested below the headstone, running his fingers gently over it as though caressing the tresses of some phantom form.

"I gotta talk to ya about Michaela," he continued, a slight tremble in his words, "she wants to leave, to go become a doctor, just like you.

"I can't let her go," he whispered, the tears filling his eyes, "I just can't."

"You have to."

A voice spoke from behind him; turning instantly, he recognised the approaching figure.

"I can't," he repeated, hiding his moistened cheeks from her sight, "she aint goin'"

"Michaela would have wanted her to go; she would be proud that her daughter was going to become a doctor."

"No!" cried Sully, his voice cracking beneath the suppressed fear, the grief, "She was a doctor, saved all those lives. But in the end it didn't matter; she couldn't even save herself."

Her aged knees protesting against the attempt to bend and sit beside him, she merely moved closer and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What happened was a tragedy Sully, no one could have prevented it. Even she knew that. But denying Michaela the chance to do something she loves, to make something of herself isn't the answer."

"What if I lose her too?" queried Sully in a low voice.

"You won't" assured Elizabeth firmly and giving his shoulder a squeeze, made to leave the cemetery. Pausing for a moment at the wooden gate, she turned back.

"You can't stop her Sully, it's her destiny."

* * *

Entering the barn quietly, he watched as she lovingly stroked the horse's nose, whispering softly to it and occasionally giggling as the horse, seemingly understanding her every word, nudged her with its cold nose. The creak of the door as it swung slightly in a chance breeze caught her attention and for a moment she was startled at the sight of an intruder. Yet a moment later, her features relaxed and smiling she turned back to her companion. Walking towards her, Sully stretched out his hand and ran it along the horse's back; it balked at the touch, stamping its hooves moodily, all trace of playfulness vanishing from its demeanour. Michaela laughed, rubbing the horse's nose in appreciation.

"She don't seem to like me much," joked Sully, taking a step back from the fractitious horse.

"She's just teasin' Pa," replied Michaela with a smile before adding quietly, "she's a real beauty."

"She and your Ma…" began Sully, at which Michaela instantly looked up, curious as to what had prompted her father to bring up a subject he usually avoided. Noting her look of interest, Sully swallowed hard before continuing.

"When they rode together…well, she could do anythin', wasn't afraid of nothin'.

"Michaela," he said after a moment's pause, "I'm not like your Ma. I was afraid…afraid that if I said ya could go to medical school, ya might never come back. That I'd lose ya."

"Pa," interposed Michaela softly, "you'd never lose me."

"I know," conceded Sully, "I sure am gunna miss ya when ya go away."

As the realisation dawned in her eyes, a broad smile lit up her features and in that moment she resembled her mother in a way she never had before.

"Ya mean I can go?" she asked, delight dancing across her lineaments.

"Your Ma would've wanted you to go," said Sully quietly, "and so do I."

"Thank you," she exclaimed, fairly leaping into his arms and embracing him tightly. Sully ran his hands soothingly over her back and for a moment they remained such, arms tangled together, each holding on to the other as a very lifeline of their existence. Finally, Sully broke away from her and bending down lifted up a small box that in her distracted state, she had failed to notice.

"This is for you," replied Sully to her somewhat bewildered expression. Reminiscent of a child unwrapping a birthday gift, she took the box from his grasp and hastily pulled the lid off. For a moment she was still, her attention directed to the contents hidden within the wooden frame. Almost hesitantly, she laced her fingers over the handle and lifted out the black, leather bag.

"It was your Ma's," explained Sully when she remained silent, "she'd want ya to have it."

At his words, she pulled the bag closer to her chest, her fingers running gently over the worn material as though the memories it held could heal the sudden ache that seared her heart. Yet even as she raised her tear filled eyes to his, she noted the reflection of grief that swirled within his darkened gaze, an anguish so palpable that she feared to stare too long lest she be wholly consumed by it. Instinctively, she wrapped her arm around his waist, resting her head against his chest, the bag nestling against her heart. She clung to it as a raft amidst the raging seas of pain, of fear and when she boarded the train that would bear her away from all that she had known, it was still clasped tightly in her hand.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Part 3:**_

Running his fingers along the thin, silver frame, he smiled at the amused, half cheeky expression on her face. Though the simple clothes rendered her barely distinguishable from her comrades, the determination in her eyes burnt out even through the black and white copy to capture his gaze. He saw her then, stepping up purposefully, almost defiantly to receive her doctorate, and yet unable to resist the half glance back to where he stood at the back of the grand hall, willing him to partake of her success. And in truth he had rarely felt such joy as he did at that moment; his heart felt fit to burst as memories of her youth crowded in on him though tinged as ever with the acrid sense of regret that he alone was there to witness her transition to independence. Whilst she had always maintained that she would be there to stand beside him on this momentous occasion, the fate of Elizabeth Quinn had been quite to the contrary. Much weakened by the burdens of her grief, when sickness came, she had not the strength to fight it. Yet wilful to the end, she would call only for Michaela and it was this latter who had clasped her hand until it turned cold within her own and sat till dawn in the small chamber with the diminished form, lamenting her loss in solitude before issuing forth to wire home the date of the funeral.

Sighing softly, he placed the image next to the dull, metal frame: they then stood, side by side as they always should have been; mother and daughter.

Though he did not resent her request to remain behind, a curious sort of loneliness crept over his heart as he moved away from the two pictures to the fireless hearth and with it came an indescribable fatigue; a leaden weight that he had been resisting for so long. She had drawn him out, borne him along on her Life's excursions, just as when a child she had dragged him through shady woodland and icy lake in what she dubbed "adventures". Yet the walls that had once reverberated with her gentle laughter were now still, the hallways hushed and dark. Gaze drifting across the familiar surroundings, he could not now draw comfort from the tangible objects that bore witness to the passage of time; merely abject memories issued forth, accentuating the helplessness that clung to his thoughts. With great effort, he rose from the chair and ascended the wooden stairs for the last time, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the empty house.

* * *

"Pa?" she called pushing open the door – yet instinctively she knew he wasn't there. It had not yet been long enough for the layer of dust to settle upon the polished floor, the soft furnishings; instead an unfamiliar emptiness seemed to emanate from the depths of the foundations, so potent that for a moment she was hesitant to enter. Despite the house being too large for the two of them, he had struggled, always, to maintain the identity of the structure as a home, filling it with the comforting scent of warmth and love that she still carried in her heart. He had transcended the role of father to encompass friend, confidant, companion and interlocutor; his absence now rendered her a stranger in her own home.

"He's not here," she said quietly, stepping inside.

"How do you know?" came a voice from behind her.

"I just know," she replied enigmatically, walking to the mantle piece. Her eye fell on the two photographs, the features of the two subjects so alike it was almost impossible to tell them apart. A bittersweet smile curled her lips yet suddenly noticing the gap at the very centre of the shelf, it faded quickly into a frown.

"Michaela," insisted her companion, "don't you think perhaps you should check up stairs, I mean…"

"No," interrupted Michaela quickly, hurrying to the door, "no…"

"But Michaela…."

"I know where he is!" she exclaimed, rushing down the steps and across the yard before disappearing into the barn. A moment later she emerged, mounted on the now aged chestnut mare that she had befriended during her youth.

"What if you get lost?" called her companion, "it's going to be dark soon."

"I won't get lost," she maintained, pulling off her hat and letting her long hair cascade free down her back.

"This is my home" she cried, urging the horse forwards; the elite, cultured blossom was quite forgotten as the youthful daughter returned and vanished into the woods.

* * *

He lay so still, she was certain he was asleep; yet one touch indicated that his sleep was not natural. Every so often a tremble would run through his frame and his skin would burn beneath her fingers, each breath becoming an effort. Dampening the cloth, she ran it tenderly over his forehead, bending so low that her hair waved against his cheeks. For several moments, he remained in a stupor but as the moisture chilled his feverish brow, he became more lucid.

"Pa," she called softly, "Pa, it's Michaela."

Beneath her gentle gaze, his eyes opened. The image before him blurred into his senses; the long tresses caressed his skin, their softness well remembered; the curve of her jaw, the curl of her mouth, contours long imprinted on his heart; the mismatched eyes welcoming him into their embrace.

"Michaela…" he breathed.

"It's alright," she replied, brushing back his hair, "I'm here now."

"I didn't think I could do it without ya…" he sighed, his eyes slipping shut as he spoke.

"Do what?" queried Michaela, her brow creasing in consternation.

"I wish…wish ya could see her," he continued, not hearing nor heeding her question, "ya'd be so proud…"

As his right hand loosened, she noticed a folded piece of paper caught amidst his fingers. Laying down her cloth, she eased it carefully out of his grasp and opened it up. The corners were wholly battered, the edges yellowed with age. His frequent caresses had faded the hue along the contours of her face yet the form was undeniable; it was her mother. And he stood beside her, strong and proud as he once had been, the laughter etched deep in his features, the love.

At that instant, the realisation dawned on her; dropping the picture, she threw herself against his chest, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him vigorously.

"No Pa," she sobbed, "no, you can't go…"

At the slight touch against her cheek, she instantly raised her head, her eyes seeking his. A small smile pulled at his lips as the words broke from his lips, "Noxa'e….I'm comin'."

The End

_Thank you all so much for reading...I hope you enjoyed it!_

_Just to note that Noxa'e means "wait"..._

_I don't own any of the characters and have only borrowd them :)_


End file.
